


Of Distance and Disruption

by MiHnn



Category: Wizards of Waverly Place
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiHnn/pseuds/MiHnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a marvel to think that sometimes she can be the useful one. Because, seriously, she has never been less messed up than him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Began With A Bang

She remembers the first time it happened. It was her mother who told her. The conversation might have started with 'you should come home', 'how are the lectures going?', 'any new cute boys I should know about?' and abruptly ended with... 'please check on Justin, he's your brother.'

She had sighed at that time. Her brother was half an hour away for heaven-sakes. In freakin' New York traffic, that's like... a lifetime.

But then her mother has this thing over her. Where she had apparently gone into labour for a few hours, and given birth to her in a taxi, and so Alex figures, yeah, she kind of owes her for the unsanitary memory.

It couldn't hurt to just check on him, right?

* * *

She finds him in the most pathetic state imaginable. Maybe the fact that the roommate answered the door, and she seemed to have walked into a salvage yard should have been a hint. But it was seeing her older brother snivelling like a girl, curled up like a ball on the couch watching the 'Notebook' that shook her. He was just...so...lame.

She had sighed. He ignored her. She cleared her throat. He sniffled at the heartbreaking scene. She coughed.

He finally looks up at her. His eyes widens a second before he seems to give up and buries himself further into the couch. She sighs again because really, she's not his freakin' mother.

It takes her three full 'you can do it' speeches, followed by a mini 'get out off this couch before I kick your ass' yeller-a-thon before he complies grudgingly. It takes her another half an hour to get him to shed the blanket. It takes her an extra hour with the help of his roommate (Trent from Hollywood who hit on her thrice) to get him to take a shower. And a simple threat to burn his apartment down with the lighter she conveniently had in her pocket for him to join her for lunch. (She came to get him for breakfast, but.. whatever)

At lunch, his eyes are sullen. His gaze doesn't rise up from the floor. His back is slouched. And she pretends it doesn't bother her. She keeps talking. One gift she always had was the ability to talk, and talk, and talk, and...

"Tell me about her," she mumbles softly as she steals a fry from his plate.

His eyes light up a second before they go dead again. "What do you want to know?"

She shrugs. "Why did she leave you?"

He looks away before he shrugs. "I'd rather not talk about it."

She doesn't like this. Seeing him broken, and lost and not at all like Justin. It was wrong. "Tell me." She coaxes gently.

His eyes meet hers for a minute, and maybe he notices her sincerity or something because he opens his mouth and... well what do you know. He  _can_ form sentences without the words 'kill myself' thrown in the middle.

* * *

It's a marvel to think that sometimes  _she_ can be the useful one. Maybe it was the maturity thing. Who knows? Maybe growing up a few years, with the combination of living at one's own apartment, and a new college thrown in might explain her medium to solve his problem. Because, seriously, she has never been less messed up than him.

* * *

"Right... so... this one?"

He looks at her for a second before his eyes fall on the red sweater she held in her hands. "Hers," he mumbles before turning his attention back to the tv for the billionth time.

"O- _kay_." She tosses it into the cardboard box next to her. She picks up a pink bunny. "This too?"

He glances up briefly. "Mine."

She snorts. "You're kidding, right?"

"She gave that to me for last Valentines day," he deadpans.

Her face scrunches up before she tosses it into the box. "Yeah... well.. not anymore."

He continues to stare at the moving pictures and she thinks that maybe he didn't notice her tossing his precious bunny. "Anything else we should get rid of?"

He shrugs. And she stifles a scream. He has been like this for far too long. Striding purposefully over to his closet she throws open the doors and pulls out the first dress shirt she sees. She tosses it at him and grins at her aim when it lands satisfactorily on his head. "Wear that. We're going out."

He stares at the blue material in his hands. "I don't feel like it."

She crosses her arms, prepared for a battle. "Well boo hoo. We're going out, and we're going to have fun. Now wear it before I curse you into oblivion. And you  _know_  I can do that."

His eyes blaze for a moment before he stands up and throws his t-shirt over his head, begrudgingly shrugging on the dress shirt.

She doesn't analyze why she has to look away.

* * *

"I don't get it."

She rolls her eyes and gestures heavenward. "What's there to get?"

He looks at her for the first time in over an hour and she realizes how much she missed him looking at her like that. All confusion. Like she was a puzzle to figure out. "This is  _your_  idea of fun?"

Grinning, she grabs his arms and pulls him towards the stone steps. "No. But you teaching me things is  _your_  idea of fun, and ignoring you is  _my_  idea of fun." He stops and she pulls him forward. "Fun, fun, fun."

He stares at her. It doesn't unnerve her or anything.

She sighs. "Justi-"

"Thank you." He blurts it out, and it's not like she grins in a silly way at him or anything.

"You're welcome."

He smiles for the first time in four days, and her heart beats just a few extra beats, and she feels a little numb around her legs. "You're welcome," she repeats, more softly this time. And she fights the urge to move her arms around him and lean in.

His eyes hold a new spark as they go up the museum steps. Hand in hand.

* * *

She's tired and cranky and lugging what feels like a thousand books on her shoulder as she trudges up the stairs to her flat. She stops when she sees him on the floor, leaning against her neighbours' door. His head in his hands. His elbows resting on his bent legs. And she thinks that maybe this has something to do with how politically incorrect their country is.

She stops in front of him, and looks at him expectantly.

He raises his head slowly, his eyes weary. "She wants me back."

She stares for a second. She forgets about the books. About the cranky professor. About the fact that her legs are about to give way. "Coffee?"

He nods as she turns her back on him and opens her door.

He spends the rest of the evening talking about her. When he leaves, she seriously considers the law regarding open windows and gravity.

* * *

The next time she sees him, he's across the quad. Her project was just used as an example of 'pure geniusness' to the rest of the class. She stepped out of the arts building when she pauses just as she sees him.

He was smiling. Laughing. Everything but dancing and singing 'walking on sunshine.' She sees her next to him. The girl. Her hand on his arm. Her face inches from his.

The feeling she gets is normal. She's just jealous of what they have. The love. The adoration. It's simple jealousy for that feeling. Which was why she ignored the tight tug in her chest, and the feeling of nausea that engulfed her. She would get over it.

Still... she doesn't answer his calls all the same.

* * *

The second time it happens, she finds out by accident. It's like one of those cliché gossip stories where Mary told Sandra, who told Tony, who told Jefferey, who told... whoever.

She doesn't think twice before she slings on her book bag and takes the thirty-five minute drive to his apartment. This time, there's no blanket, or tissues or sappy movies. He takes one look at her and grabs his jacket. "Movie?" She nods, not surprised by his lack of surprise.

They spend the rest of the day watching comedies and laughing until popcorn gets caught in her throat. He takes her to the arcade and later to a one-day-only carnival.

She doesn't think twice when he takes hold of her hand, or when she squeezes him in reassurance.

When they say goodbye, he does something he has never done before.

He kisses her cheek.

* * *

He comes over as much as she goes over. They order take out, fight over the remote and sometimes, he might help her with her not quite artistic assignments.

Every night, he says goodbye and kisses her cheek.

And nearly every night after, he doesn't tell her that he got back together with  _her_.

* * *

"Hey."

She jumps. "What's wrong with you? You scared me." She hits him lightly on the arm. "Are you nuts? Sneaking up on a girl like that?"

"Yeah. Sorry." He smiles sheepishly. "Look. I want you to meet her. You're free on Friday right? Thought maybe we could double date or something?"

"Yeah... Friday..." She curses that he knows her schedule. "I have something."

"What?" He looks genuinely curious.

She shrugs. "Just something."

"Don't you want to meet her?"

"The girl who keeps breaking up with you, just to get back with you? Sure!"

He narrows his eyes at her sarcasm. "I thought you would want to meet her. You know, as my  _sister?_ "

She winces. "Lets not advertise that fact."

"Oh yeah. Stupid me. And here I thought that family was important." She stares at him, wondering what made him so angry. "You know what?" He continues, his tone getting louder. "I knew you wouldn't like her. Forget the fact that she's so amazing, and loves me, and she's just like you. You don't like her."

"Justin," she hisses. People were staring. So not cool.

"I mean, is it too hard to just ask my little sister to meet my girlfriend? Apparently, it is!"

She glares at a nosey passer-by. "Justin."

"Just forget it, Alex. I don't need this," he snaps as he turns on his heel and marches off. She stares, dumbfounded. Which is saying something, since she is hardly  _ever_ dumbfounded.

She doesn't listen to his messages before she deletes them, anyways.

* * *

The third time it happens, he shows up at her apartment, drunk. She's just staring at him because, he's Justin. The guy who could probably be a priest. The walking after-school special. The good Samaritan, who has never touched a liquor bottle in his life. And he was standing outside her door, slurring his words, barely holding himself up against the doorway, and she can't help but think...pathetic.

He just looks at her like he being there should be enough of an explanation. She looks at him, and agrees.

He stays on her couch that night. His snores filling the apartment.

She? She doesn't sleep a wink.

He leaves before she pretends to wakes up.

* * *

The next night, he's at her door again. Drunk, again. Slurring his words, again. She thinks she hears the words 'can't anymore' and 'never again', but she's not sure. She gives him a blanket and offers her couch.

He leaves before she wakes up. Again.

* * *

The third night when he shows up, she's ready. She's armed with a pitcher of ice cold water, aspirin and dark coffee. He just wants the couch. She tries to distract him, but fails.

He thanks her and kisses her cheek, before he circles his arms around her and kisses her lightly on the neck. She shivers, and he takes notice. "What?"

She fights the lump in her throat. "Nothing." She tries to shrug off his arms, but his hold tightens around her.

"You know, the least you can do is just let me be. It's your fault I'm lacking a girlfriend."

Her hands pause on his arms. "What are you talking about?"

He shakes his head and lets her go, falling onto the couch in defeat. He buries his face in his hands, his breathing anything but calm. She watches him expectantly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

She's startled when he chuckles, the sound low and throaty. "God, I'm messed up."

"Justin, what-"

"Do you know why she dumped me?" He looks up at her, his expression almost comical. "She thinks that I was seeing someone. You! Can you believe that? She's actually jealous of  _you_." He scoffs as he stands up to walk towards her. "I mean, come on. You're my  _sister_. It's not like we would ever..." He stops, his eyes boring into hers.

She tries to swallow the lump again. "Justi-"

"I could never kiss you or touch you or..." His eyes fall from hers and she feels her skin burn as they travel down her neck to land on her chest. She fights the urge to cover herself. "I could never touch you like that..." he whispers more to himself, his gaze still on the skin her skinny barely covers.

She feels close to crying. Her body is tense and her breathing ragged as she watches him take slow, deliberate steps towards her. His gaze goes over her body hungrily, skillfully avoiding her eyes. When he stops in front of her, his chest lightly brushing hers, she could smell the influence on his breath. She says his name as a plea to understand this  _thing_  between them. His eyes meet hers, and she sees confusion before they dawn in understanding.

He panics and steps back. "I'm sorry. I..." He swallows audibly before his gaze falls on hers. She sees her fear reflected in them. Without another word, he turns, the door closing softly behind him.

* * *

Her friends find her behaviour weird. It's not like she lost her boyfriend or anything. No, she lost  _him_. The one person she found difficult to call 'brother'. They consider her mopey, moody, lethargic and all round depressive.

She? She doesn't care.

At least not until  _he_  walks back into her apartment.

* * *

He's sitting on her bed, too close to her, hands in his lap. If this wasn't hurting her so much she would have found him very schoolboy-ish. They stay in silence for a while, his gaze studying the paintings around her wall, and hers on the ruffles of the pillow on her lap.

When he clears his throat, she nearly jumps in surprise. "She wants me back." He looks at her briefly. "She said she realizes how ridiculous she sounded, and she wants to give us another try."

She says nothing.

"Say something."

She shrugs, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the ruffles.

"About that night..." Her hand pauses. "I had a lot to drink. I didn't mean..." He clears his throat again. "It wasn't supposed to come out... that way."

She feels the familiar tug against her chest, and she knows it has nothing to do with the Indian food she had for lunch. "Kiss me." It's an almost whisper. She misses his expression, her gaze fixed solely on the ruffles.

"Alex-"

"Kiss me," she says it more forcefully, her eyes finally falling on his. He looks out of breath for a moment. Later, she knows she would take pleasure in this. But right now, she really can't.

After a moment of hesitation, he leans forward and lightly pecks her cheek. Her hand snakes up around his neck to hold him still as she shifts slightly, her lips brushing lightly against the corner of his mouth. She pulls back hesitantly to look into his darkened eyes. They stay like that for a while. She waiting for him to make the next move. He, probably doing the same.

Her lips quirk upward. "I got the spot." Her fingers untangle from his hair and make the slow descent to his shoulder.

He lets out a low breath. "Oh?"

"I leave in a few days. A semester in Italy. Every girl's dream." She shrugs lightly, her eyes far from casual.

He nods slowly, his hand reaching for hers, tugging it from the ruffles. "So then, this is kind of like goodbye. For now."

Her hand tightens on his shoulder, while his thumb lightly caresses her. "Yeah. Kind of like."

He leans forward, and her heart speeds up. His gaze holds hers as he shifts slightly so that all they have between them is air. Empty, electric, nervous, barely an inch thick of air. Her hand finds it's way back to the nape of his neck, her gaze falling on his lips. Because surely, they weren't going to do anything like that. He was close. True. His hand had made it's way to her thigh. True. He was so close that she could practically taste him. True. He was so close that she could... "Goodbye Alex." She's startled by his voice. So low and filled with pain. And something else she shouldn't analyze. Her eyes meet his for a second before he finally kisses her softly. It's an experiment. That's all it is. It starts like one. Her lips lightly pulling his. His mouth hesitantly moving against hers. This was just a kiss goodbye. It was going to end any minute now.

But it didn't.

His hands were tangled in her hair, his arms pinning her against him. Her hands fisted in his shirt, running up and down his arms, his chest, his back. Their movements seemed quick, frustration dictating their speed. It was an onslaught against her very being. She opened up to him, thoroughly and completely, kissing him with as much fervour as he kissed her. It was not a conscious effort to pull him onto the bed after her, or for her fingers to find the bare skin under his shirt. She didn't think twice about his hands caressing her legs or how he was between them. Nothing else registered but  _him_. His bare hands on her equally bare skin. His lips trailing from her lips, to her jaw, to her cheek. His teeth, nibbling against the base of her neck while her fingers played with the the silky dark strands of his hair. It was too much. Her senses overwhelming her. Her mind, screaming for release. With all the effort she could muster, placing her hands against his chest, she pushes him away.

She can barely look at him as he hovers above her, his breathing as jerky as hers. It takes him a moment after he stares down at her, to slowly move off the bed, and off of her. He stands there for a minute, still too close, his hands running through his hair in frustration. "Sorry. I didn't..."

She gets it. What could they say to make this whole thing okay? "I know." She doesn't have the strength to get up.

"I didn't mean..."

"I know."

He leans against her dresser, and she's pretty sure she'll have to burn that thing. "Alex, I'm..."

She's tired, and hostile, and she wants to cry. But she sits up anyway. "I think..." She sighs. "It'll be good if we don't see each other anymore." She chances a glance at him, and wishes she didn't. He looks broken, and hurt, and oh crap! If she hadn't just made out with her brother, she's pretty sure that this would send her to hell.

He jerks his head away from her, and like a man on a mission, he walks out of her bedroom without a second glance towards her.

She doesn't see him for the next two days.

* * *

When she does see him, she's at the bookstore looking for a book on Italian translations, because seriously, why couldn't everyone just speak English? She sees him standing outside, his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as he tells a person directions or something. That's so Justin, always the boy scout. He glances up briefly, their eyes meet, and before she knows it, he's gone.

She panics just a second before she runs after him. He had seen her. She was sure of it. Their eyes had met, and he'd scrambled faster than Speedy Gonzalos. She calls his name as many times as an olympic runner probably hears his name as he runs the 100 metres. In other words, she calls his name  _a lot_. "Justin."

He turns so fast, she nearly bumps into him. "What, Alex?" And it's not like her eyes narrow at his snippish tone or anything.

" _What_? Is that all you have to say?  _What?_ "

"What else is there to say?" He huffs in frustration.

And the thing is, she huffs back with  _equal_  frustration. "Gee, I don't know. How about.. 'Sorry we made out, Alex. Don't worry. It won't happen again'?"

He looks like he would really love to curse her. "But that's the problem isn't it? That teensy little issue of us being brother and sister and all."

She scoffs. "Please. These things happen."

"Oh really?" He waits for her unsure nod. "Will you make out with Max?"

Her face scrunches up in disgust. "Max? Ew." And she really wants to wipe that smug look off his face just before he turns on his heel and storms off. Again! "Stop that!"

He keeps walking. "Stop what?"

"That! Walking away. We have to talk about this."

He pauses. "You want to talk about this?" He turns around, and his glare is deadly. "Fine. Lets talk about this."

This new personality switch was completely freaking her out, by the way. "Yeah. Okay." She's  _not_  nervous. "Um..." She doesn't know what to say, or how to say what she wants to say. That's all. "I just..."

He looks away from her. "I gotta go Alex, I'll talk to you later."

"I'm leaving tomorrow." She doesn't know why she says it. Maybe it's to keep him talking to her or something.

He nods, still not looking at her. "Have a safe trip." She watches him walk away again. Only this time, it kinda hurts.


	2. In Italy...

Italy is...well...Italy. The food is Italian, the people, Italian, the streets, the buildings, the music. Everything is just so...Italian. If anyone asked her, she would have sweared that a dog once barked at her in Italian. The bottom line? She loves it. The people, the cuisine, the wine. Oh, the wine.

The one thing she doesn't like? The completely crazy presumption that just because she's a Russo, whose family has hailed itself from Italy, that she automatically speaks Italian. If her family were with her, they would have laughed so hard before reminding her of her not so successful school days of learning Spanish. But then thoughts of her family lead to...nothing. She'd rather not think about it. These days, the Russo family in her mind includes Jerry, the father figure who gives her what she wants, Theresa, the mother who would help hug her troubles away, and Max, the pet they just  _had_  to adopt (sheesh). Anyone else was simply dead to her. And it has nothing to do with the lack of calls, emails, texts, letters, telegrams, smoke signals, magical messages or even carrier pigeons that she was getting. Nope. Nothing to do with it.

And honestly, if she thinks about it, she's got a good life going here. She's loved by her lecturers, have plenty of non-magical friends, she lives in a city of inspiration, and life is just...good. What more could a girl want?

Oh. Yeah.  _That_.

* * *

The first time it happens, she's on her first date with Patrick. In this part of the world, she plays hard to get. Something she learned from living in the most Catholic country in the world. He's been asking her out since she mistakenly magicked his book blank, thinking it belonged to someone else. She had chatted him up with a wink and flick of her hair to fix it. The real guy? Got into the intended trouble that he so totally deserved (no one calls her stuck up and gets away with it).

The truth is... he's charming, handsome, and down right adorable. The other truth? She isn't listening to a word he's saying.

"Hey, you seem distracted."

She nearly chokes on her latte as her eyes stay over his shoulder. "I just thought..." Placing the cup down, she stands up fast, knocking against the table and spilling his coffee. "Oh, I'm so sorry." She reaches for a napkin and quickly tries to clean her mess, her eyes rising to the spot they were before. She freezes when a pair of familiar eyes looks her way. A second later, they were gone.

"Hey, you okay?"

She looks down and sees him for the first time. "What?" And the thing is, her voice sounds strange.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he grabs the napkins from her slackened grip and continue to mop up the spilt coffee. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Looking again at the spot across the street from the quaint birstro they were currently occupying, she lets out a small breath. "I just...thought I saw someone."

"Like a long lost lover?" He jokes.

She smirks, hoping the smile reaches her eyes. "Something like that."

His grin falls as he becomes distinctly weirded out. He clears his throat, his posture, awkward. "Okay then." The waiter comes over and they order their dinner. Patrick keeps talking. She keeps not listening.

* * *

There is this thing that she does. After her classes of where she is forced to study politics and the effects of hegemony, or after cutting classes (depending on her mood) she would walk the quaint streets and take it all in. The sights, the architecture, the totally hot guys who would be checking her out (who could blame them?). More than once she would sit on the stone steps, pull out her drawing pad and start sketching. The man to her left, having a cup of coffee as he reads the financials. The woman straight ahead, window shopping while moving along her baby in her stroller. And more than once she would marvel at the simplicity of normal life. She craves it. The very thought would dry her mouth and burn her eyes. She misses it. And it hurts.

* * *

The second time it happens, she's a bit more sure, but not really. She's doing the whole waiter thing to an obnoxious guy who really doesn't like to take 'no' for an answer (grabbing her equals saliva as an ingredient in his sandwich. He should expect it, really). It takes her a moment to realize that her breathing might have stopped and her fingers might be losing grip on the tray filled to the brim of dirty dishes. (In her opinion, if they had somehow landed on Mr. Grabs-a-lot, it won't be the end of the world).

But she does finally breathe, and she does manage to catch herself before making an embarrassing 'Funniest Home Video' moment. The problem? When she finally looks up, he's no longer there. Part of her thinks that she might be going crazy from loneliness. The other part of her thinks that maybe she was seeing what she was supposed to see. The third part of her shakes it off and spits into his coffee thinking it would make herself feel better.

It does.

* * *

Sometimes, it's a lonely night. It happens. Rebecca would be out on a date, and Arayana would be busy in the library.  _Her_  date night would include a bowl of pasta, her text books and maybe the second season of 'Friends'. Sometimes, nearly always, she would just glance at her cellphone on the makeshift coffee table (The words "Alex, keep your feet off the table" go through her mind briefly before she angrily crosses her ankles against the cheap wood). And sometimes, maybe frequently she would, after a moment of contemplation, pick it up and scroll down the contacts list to the names starting with 'J'. And sometimes, very rarely, she would hit the 'call' button only to hit the little red sign soon after. She finds herself pathetic, really.

"This is getting unhealthy."

She rolls her eyes as she tosses her phone away from her. "What is?"

Rebecca sighs as she puts away her coat. "This whole introvert thing. If you weren't so studious, maybe you would be able to let loose and have some fun."

Alex snorts at the irony of it all. "Ho-kay." Sarcasm. She loves it for a reason.

With a perfectly stern face, Rebecca sits on the couch next to her. "I'm serious Lexy, you have to stop being so...anti-social. Maybe go out on a date. I know this really great guy who-"

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" Alex asks in a bored voice. This makes it attempt number four hundred and fifty seven, give or take a few thousand.

"A few." Her immaculately dressed roommate says, shrugging. Alex rolls her eyes and goes back to her pasta. She finds this whole heart-to-heart thing positively nineteen eighty's. If she ever decides to go with big hair, maybe she would consider it.

After another sigh, Rebecca moves over and grabs the pasta from her hands, taking a big bite. Alex mourns her loss. "By the way, this guy stopped by today."

"Oh?" Boredom. Something else she is desperately  _not_  fighting.

"Yeah, some Jesse, or Justin or other."

Alex freezes. Then, grabbing the remote she offs the tv and faces her roommate. Rebecca looks taken aback for a moment (totally funny moment that's going to be mocked. But later). "Justin?" Alex's voice sounds sort of raspy and chocked, and what's that other emotion? Oh, yeah. Blatant outright  _panic._  " _Justin_? Dark hair? Dark eyes? Sort of dorky-ish?"

"Um...yeah."

She can't breath again. Normally, you're supposed to be able to breathe when you get to know something you knew, but not her apparently.

"Lexy? You okay?" Rebecca might sound concerned, but she was nowhere close to guessing how freaked out she truly is.

"What did he say?"

Maybe Rebecca was freaked at how soft her voice had gotten. Maybe that's why she places down the pasta and looks at her sympathetically. "He just wanted to see you. He said he'll be coming back later. Do you not want to see him? I can send him away if you want."

"What?" How is she even talking? Her throat feels so closed up, that water just wouldn't help. "No. It's...It's fine. I just..." She stands up and starts to the bathroom. "...need something..." Closing the door, she leans against it and takes a deep breath. Feeling the need to rest, she falls onto the floor and lets out a tiny sigh. She doesn't notice the tears silently trailing down her cheeks for sometime.

* * *

The third time it happens, he's not a mirage or a dream or a mystical genie like creature that can go 'poof' with the click of one's finger. He's just Justin. And he's staring at her. She thinks that it might be because he hadn't seen her in two months. But maybe, most definitely, it has mostly to do with the fact that she's out shopping for food. His eyes fall onto her basket full of (yucky) produce that her roommates made her buy by threatening to kick her out, otherwise. He's probably never seen her look so...domesticated. When his eyes meet hers, he smiles. Recognizing the joke of 'Alex eats vegetables, hell just might be freezing over' her lips quirk slightly upwards. It's a moment. And they share it.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he walks slowly towards her. Feeling the pull, she stays where she is, basket in hand, on the stone cobbled streets.

When he reaches her, he stands a bit far, his hands in his pockets. "Hey."

The forced casualness of his tone jumps out at her. "Hey."

He smiles. She smiles. And just like that, he hugs her. And she thinks, he just might be missing her too.

* * *

It's not like it's the same. They start walking together, talking about random, unimportant things. How her classes are going, her roommates, how she was convinced about the Italian speaking, barking dog. When she asks him about graduation, he changes the subject, always bringing their talk back to her. She doesn't think she'll like the reason as to why. He doesn't tell her why he is where he is, or for how long he will be in her neck of the woods.

She notices the little things. He doesn't smile as often as she remembers. He doesn't even tell her boring facts about the places they pass, even though she knows he must know them. There are moments where she would catch him staring at her, but he wouldn't say why. She would even notice how he tries not to touch her. It aches her. All she wants to do is touch him. Hold his hand and be all corny. But he smiles, and looks away and she hates how dull his eyes look.

When he finally asks her out to dinner, she tries her best not to grin like a twelve year old girl who just got asked out by her crush. Because, technically, he isn't hers.

* * *

They don't make it to dinner.

It could be because she changes her mind and decides to surprise him at the hotel he was staying at. Or, it could be because a familiar blonde opens the door instead of Justin, making her grin fall effortlessly. A blonde who knew exactly who she was and welcomed her with a large, (and it's completely obvious that it is) fake smile. A blonde, who she had spent months envying unbeknown to her. A blonde, who is also known as Justin Russo's on-again off-again doozy of a girlfriend.

When Justin finally appears, ready for the dinner, he seems taken aback by seeing his sister at the door. His eyes meet hers, an apology hidden in their depths. And the thing is, it's weird that it feels like he was just caught doing something cheater-like, when he isn't (She'd rather not think what it means, if he is). She gives one last (fake) smile, before she turns on her heel and leaves. He doesn't follow her.

And the thing is, she thought he would.

* * *

When he does show up at her apartment, she feels like opening the door, just to slam it in his face. But she doesn't. Instead, she opens the door and silently invites him in. Her roommates decide to go out for coffee when they see her expression. She doesn't blame them.

They sit in silence for a while, him on the couch, and she on the coffee table. She doesn't miss his glance of disapproval, she relishes it. "What are you doing here, Justin?"

He sighs before his glance turns to his hands. "I should have told you that she came with me."

She shrugs. "No biggie, figures your girlfriend would want to take a trip to a romantic city." He looks up at her, and she's surprised by how hurt he looks. Her voice softens a tad bit. "But what I meant is, what are you doing in Italy? Now?" He stays silent, his hands wringing in nervousness. "You knew I was here, and you came anyway. Why?"

Letting out a low breath, he ran his hands though his air. "I just...I just wanted to see you."

Her voice softens further. "Why?"

He finally looks at her, and her breath catches slightly at the way he is. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Justin..." She shakes her head, the words stuck in her throat.

"I know. I  _know._ " He looks at her earnestly. "I just had to see you, Alex. She just...didn't let me come alone." His eyes were begging for her to understand. Maybe she does. She stands up, feeling the unexplainable need to leave. It was getting too much. He grabs her arm, ignoring her protests. "I want you to make me forget."

She stops then, hearing the option she hasn't stopped considering for some time. "You know I can't do that. Dad said-"

"Screw what Dad said." She ignores the tiny part of her that enjoys such language from squeaky clean Justin. His grip tightens around her arm. "It's the only thing I can think of, Alex. If we just forget this whole thing happened-"

"We'll probably repeat it." He's surprised by her whisper, dropping her arm to step away from her.

"We don't know that'll happen."

"We don't know it won't."

His jaw locked."So then what? We live like this?"

She sighs in defeat. "I've thought about it, Justin. But Dad's right, it's dangerous. We just have to suck it up and work through this."

"Work through this?" He scoffs, and part of her thinks she's never seen him look so defeated. "I'm not  _you_ , Alex. I can't just  _work through this._ "

She rolls her eyes. "What are you talking about?" If they hadn't been in such a dramatic dilemma, she doubts she would have understood his frustration. Still, she still kind of, doesn't.

"You go against the norm. That's you. So naturally, you can easily brush this off and move on." Her jaw drops at how ridiculous he sounds. And not to mention wrong. So,  _so_  wrong. "But me, I can't. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but kissing my sister, and wanting to kiss my sister is where I draw the line. And I refuse to feel this way."

"Oh, so you think that I'm just going to forget this ever happened and go la-di-da on with my life?" If he even thinks of answering 'yes'...

"Yeah." He sounds angry, and annoyed. What she doesn't get is, why that is directed at her.

"Oh my  _God_! You're such a nitwit." She's angry now. Really,  _really_ , angry. "Oh look at me, I'm Justin. I'm so pure that anything bad that happens is automatically my sister's fault. And do you know why?Because she's okay with evil. Since she's the spawn of the devil."

"Stop acting like a five year old." He snaps.

"Stop treating me like a five year old." She snaps back. Without a second thought, she grabs a book and tosses it as his head. Justin immediately ducks, throwing a cushion towards her. She in turn, uses the plastic fruit they keep around the apartment, while Justin keeps grabbing pens and notebooks. The feeling of fighting with one's brother is painstakingly familiar. Especially when he finally disarms her, throwing her against the opposite wall, her wrists pinned behind her back. Part of her wonders if maybe he was doing this to her on purpose, since he was looking at her with his eyes clouded over, his lips barely away from hers. She doesn't drop her eyes from his gaze, her very being willfully stubborn. Curious as to her power over him, she shifts slightly, feeling his chest graze hers, and his breathing get just a bit deeper.

"Stop that."

Her eyes narrow. "No."

"Alex..." His voice is dangerously low and full of foreboding.

She ignores the threat feeling inexplicably powerful. "What?" Her tone is innocent as she shifts towards him, her body nearly fitting against his hard form.

He waits a second, his face expressionless, his eyes staring brilliantly into hers before he seems to let go of his restraint. Like a snap, she feels every rigid muscle against her uncoil, as he releases her wrists only to hold her against him and kiss her with a force so powerful, she stumbles against the wall. She had promised herself that if this ever happened again, she would push him off her immediately. But she doesn't. Her fingers tangle in his hair as their lips meet again and again in an understanding of need. But then, it couldn't be pure need, could it? Why else would she want him so much? She could feel his body pushing against hers, but that doesn't seem enough. Nor was the way he held her, his hands moving from her shoulders, down her arms, only to circle her waist and pull her closer. He was kissing her furiously, months of frustration been met with the pop of a button, the pull of a zip, the tug of a strap.

She would be lying if she thought her conscience was staying silent. It wasn't. The words 'wrong', 'shouldn't', 'brother' gets tossed around a bit. But she ignores them, her mind skilfully concentrating on her arms around him, their breaths mingling, his hand on her thigh.

And like all moments of poetic justice, the door opens.


	3. And if I follow you...

His fingers were shaking. That's the first thing she remembers. Everything else came after, but what really struck her was his quivering hand as he lifted her t-shirt roughly to touch her bare skin underneath. She remembers his hot breath against her throat as he pushed against her, his chest flattening hers and her hands examining the very person that is Justin. His shoulders, his back, his arms. Her fingers finally tangling in his dark strands pulling him closer to her. She remembers the tingle of impatient need she felt in the pit of her stomach as he used his other hand to lift her leg against him, her knee bending across his hips as he moved against her, his fingers rubbing teasing circles across her thigh. It was a never ending kiss as he bruised her lips like he was branding her; making her his. She did the same, biting his lower lip unknowingly. And that was when they stopped.

The look on her roommates' faces are priceless. It's a cross between a 'jaw drop surprised' look, and a 'I knew this was  _so_  going to happen, but the visuals are so much better than what I imagined' look. She feels the need to roll her eyes and 'Psh' them away. Instead she opts to slowly disentangling herself from Justin, who is just too frozen in fear to react.

One thing she thanks God for, not telling her girlfriends that the person she was carelessly making out for the last - oh I don't know - five minutes just happen to share her parents. Through a blood line. The realization brings a flush to her face, and they probably think it's embarrassment, not shame. No one says anything. And with barely a glance her way, he leaves.

Her roommates wait until the door closes softly behind him, before they round on her.

* * *

The story is this. Justin Finkle, a cousin, of a cousin, of a cousin of Harper's (twice removed) has a girlfriend who keeps breaking up with him only to get back together with him (it's the closest she can come to the truth without bursting into tears in front of her roommates). It's not like they like each other or anything, but these things just keep on happening, and it is  _not_  any of her roommates' business. However, after living with her for so long, they have built a monstrous 'we can ignore the warnings of Alex Russo banner' and they don't drop the subject (sometimes she wishes she could just magic their mouths shut). They follow her around the whole apartment, and bug her continuously with questions that should be banned from teen magazines.  _What is he like? Did he follow you here? Is the relationship with the girlfriend over? Is he a free man now? Why was he acting so weird? Why are_ you  _acting so weird?_ It comes to a point where she just simply  _can't_ anymore. She glares at them, grabs her jacket and slams the door shut behind her, finding the noise extremely therapeutic.

She's on her way to walk this whole thing off, to walk Justin off; when she sees him. He's seated on the floor next to the staircase, his head in his hands. The sight is so familiar, that it  _hurts._  She must have made some sort of noise, because his head snaps up, and she realizes that he had been waiting for her. He stares at her for a moment, and her first impulse is to bolt.

It takes him a while to slowly stand up, his eyes never leaving hers. He moves cautiously towards her, and Alex feel the need to run so strongly, she clenches her fists. When he's finally close enough, he opens his mouth to say...something. But all that comes out is her name. He says it softly, cautiously; and it takes her whole being not to picture him whispering her name like that against her skin. He takes another step closer, and before she knows it, his hand snakes across the back of her neck, and he leans forward and kisses her. It's short and soft, and shouldn't mean anything. But it means so much to her, that little touch. She leans in and her fingers somehow curl themselves around the front of his shirt. It takes massive strength for her to let him go. He finally releases her and takes an extra step back, and she finds herself cursing him for thinking of that first.

"Can we talk about this? Properly?" He clears his throat to rid the huskiness. "Maybe in public?"

She nods, her heart's sinking a bit, but she understands. He makes a move to leave but she grabs his hand, her fingers squeezing lightly when he tries to let go. She watches his adams apple bob as he swallows a protest before he leads them down the stairs.

* * *

She nearly laughs. Usually, they fight. It's not unusual that a family dinner that has it's primary contenders, end with their parents yelling at each other. One parent always takes the side of the eldest, while the other usually takes the side of the middle child. And she prides herself in manipulating her father to such an extent that sometimes, she's just too perfect and could do no wrong. She and Justin, simply sitting and  _not_  insulting or yelling at each other? It was like an alternative universe.

"What is it?"

She looks up. "What?"

"You're smiling." He says it awkwardly as he adds a fifth tea spoon of sugar into his barely sipped coffee.

She suddenly doesn't find this situation funny anymore. Whenever she leans forward, he leans back. When she reaches for her cup, he pulls his hands back and looks away from her. Really, he's just pissing her off. "Shall we discuss this thing then?"

He chooses to ignore her tone. "I..er...I did some research."

She snorts. "That's never a good sign."

He glares at her before he sighs tiredly. He seems to do that a lot when he's around her. "There are a few memory modification spells that could work." He ignores it when she spits out her latte and sputters. "It's not too difficult just-"

"Ancient and disproved?"

He glares at her again. "Yes. But I'm sure with a few changes it'll work fine."

"And what happens if it doesn't work? You turn into a vegetable?" she asks mockingly.

The quick shift of his eyes gives her an eerie feeling.

* * *

The first time it happens, it really shouldn't have.

Justin shows up with a monstrous pile of books that makes her look behind him to see if he had an army of big, burly men lugging it up the ridiculous amount of stairs. He lacks the men, and she's kind of impressed. Who knew the scrawny teenager could actually do manual work?

They spend hours sitting at the opposite sides of her modest apartment, reading. Actually, Justin read. She found it far more entertaining to try to create a slingshot that could haul a five hundred page book easily across the room. The way she sees it, she's no physics major, but the work she was doing was going to help man kind. Justin however, didn't see it like that. After getting hit in the face four times by a wayward pillow, he then proceeded to take her invention and toss it out of the window. Someone was not happy when a gift from above hit him squarely on the head. It was all Justin's fault. Obviously.

It takes another few minutes of ' _Justin_ ' whines from her and  _'Alex'_  orders from him before she decides to give up on the pretense and kiss him. It's not that she wanted to or anything. He was just there, and she really wanted to kiss someone since she saw this sappy movie the night before. She doesn't expect him to push her away, but he does. And with wide eyes, he storms out. She recognizes the look just before he closes the door behind him. He wanted her.

* * *

The second time it happens, it's completely and utterly and totally his fault. He  _made_  her kiss him.

After forgiving her (even though she didn't ask to be forgiven - sheesh), he comes in all business-like and demands they concentrate. He's so...tightly wound. And it irritates her. Yes, she's the trouble maker, and yes, she cannot say no to a challenge when it is staring at her in the face. But the urge to undo him was just too much to bear. She wanted to unhinge him and make him less  _Justin_  and more  _Alex_  (lets face it, the world would be so much more fun then). So she did the only logical thing she could think of that stemmed from the recesses of her mind.

She slaps him.

In her defence, she hit his face with a pillow and his expression was priceless. After a moment of stunned silence, he snaps at her for being juvenile. And she snaps back, calling him a liar. On a completely unrelated note, he might have compared her to his  _'girlfriend_ ' - yuck - and she might have gotten angry and hit him (just saying, completely unrelated).

They have a big blow out, as expected. Then he storms out, as definitely expected. Seriously, could anyone  _be_ more predictable?

But then fifteen minutes later, he comes bearing a chocolate croissant and apologizes (also predictable but, whatever). And he's so sincere and so sweet and attentive and she can't help it. She kisses him. It's a light peck on the lips, nothing much to get a priest and nun to break up their little shindig. But just as she pulls away, his eyes darken ever so slightly and he pulls her towards him. Their lips meet in the middle.

She's not a fan of Valentine's Day and corny movies like 'The Notebook', but at the moment, she might have called herself a romantic sap.

* * *

The third time it happens, he's saying goodbye.

It's about time he goes back to the big U.S. of A without her and with... the random chick he had broken up with but who couldn't change her flight (apparently). She's not jealous. Not at all. Even when he confronts her with a voodoo doll she may or may not have planted to freak the blonde out. Seriously, it's not funny or anything (snort).

But the thing is, he's not angry at her. He smiles and hugs her, and she would have mocked him for having tears in his eyes had her own eyes decided not to be lame and act all girly. It's a hazard - these hormones- there should be a spell to get rid of them somewhere.

It's the first time he kisses her in forever and she holds him tight because she knows that at some point she'll have to let go. Leave it to Justin to leave everything until the last minute and make it all dramatic.

If anyone asks, she  _didn't_  ask Justin to spend the night, and Justin  _didn't_ agree after a minute of hesitation and five minutes of her pulling his sleeve.

If anyone asks, they  _didn't_  sleep in the same bed together or kiss or cuddle.

And if anyone asks... it wasn't the most perfect night of her life.

Only thing is, it was.

* * *

It takes her exactly three more weeks before she finds the book he had tried to make her read. She decides it's a complete waste of time as she flips through it. For one thing, there's no pictures, and then there was the issue of too many words. It seemed annoying, really.

She decides to stow it away just in case. It was his book after all, he might want it back someday.

* * *

The night before she leaves Italy, Harper calls her. She had seen Justin ring shopping! It's not supposed to a big deal. Really. They agreed they weren't seeing each other, and he said that he was done with the blonde. Only, it seems he wasn't.

She hangs up on Harper before she could say anything more.

It takes her a while but she finds the book. It was hidden behind a stack of other things she never really used, including a feather boa. She finds the page she's looking for easily before she sits on her bed cross-legged. If anyone had seen her, they would have called her impulsive and wrong. But if they really knew her, they would know that that was who she is. She's impulsive, and she would never apologize for it. And if she's wrong, she would never admit it.

Before doing anything else, she takes the form she was supposed to send out the day before and ticks the box she hadn't intended to tick. She then glances once more at the empty room that was her home for a few months before she traces the words she had refused to recite all those weeks ago, with her finger. Closing her eyes, she says them softly, and feels the heat behind her eyelids. It takes a moment before she blinks and looks down in her lap, wondering vaguely why she was sitting on her bed instead of packing.

Her roommate popped her head in with the cordless phone in one hand. "Call for you, it's Justin." Megan grins. "I think he's buying you a gift. He asked me for your ring size," she says, snickering.

Alex stares at her roommate blankly before she asks coolly, "Who's Justin?"

Because seriously, she's never heard that name before in her life. Alex Russo is single after all, and happily so.


End file.
